Wind River
by M C Pehrson
Summary: Story #82 Kirk's disillusioned ward, Lame Wolf, travels to a Shoshone reservation in Wyoming. Will he ever return?


It was because of his friend James that Duncan "Lame Wolf" Redfern came to Wyoming. Back when James left for Purdue, Lame Wolf had also been considering a college education, but in the year it took him to graduate from high school, everything had changed. On the university campus James took an illicit drug called "Blue", and as a result of that foolish escapade, a girl was pregnant with his child. Though Lame Wolf kept his feelings to himself, he was bitterly disappointed in his friend. Drugs and liquor—he hated the way they changed people and made them do hurtful things. When he lived with old Aunt Lydia, her drunken son had struck him. On the Kirk ranch, liquor had sometimes made Uncle so surly and irresponsible that Lame Wolf feared for the family's safety. He would never have expected James—someone with such noble dreams for the future, a son of the half-Vulcan Spock—to start down that same crooked path. Having lost respect for his friend, Lame Wolf decided against joining him at Perdue. Instead he went with his stallion Warrior to the tribal grounds at Wind River, Wyoming. In an age of interplanetary travel, he hoped to find healing for his wounded spirit there among his Eastern Shoshone brothers.

That first summer, he built a tipi in the tribal camp and lived in the manner of his ancestors, at one with nature. It did his heart good to speak the Old Tongue, practice skills he had learned from his grandfather White Elk, and learn other skills unique to the Eastern tribe. In the camp, work was divided according to Shoshone tradition. Women gathered berries, edible plants, and pine nuts in beautifully woven baskets bearing geometric designs. Many of them were accomplished herbalists who could be called upon to treat illness.

Lame Wolf fashioned arrowheads for the hunts that took men far from camp. The Wind River basin was fertile and rich in game. He brought home rabbits and sage hens, which the women cooked over open fires. Sometimes he ventured into the rugged, scenic mountains with their thick stands of fir and spruce. There in the high places, he felt especially close to Creator God and Grandmother Earth. When his arrows brought down a deer or antelope, he gave thanks to the One Above who made all life possible. Back at camp, the women filled the animal's body cavity with water and added red-hot stones to cook the meat from within.

On some golden days, the men gathered together on the bank of the river. There among the cottonwoods and willows, they used weirs to fence off a pool for spearing fish. At other times they floated lifelike decoys to lure ducks. Waiting low in the water, they caught the unsuspecting birds by their legs and pulled them under. It did not bother Lame Wolf to kill an animal for food. Death was a natural part of the Circle of Life—the same Circle that had sent him on his first vision quest as a boy. Alone in the Oregon wilderness, he had purified himself and fasted, waiting for the spirits to contact him. Before long, a spirit had come in the form of a solitary wolf, limping as it walked upon a mountain. From that lame wolf, he had received courage and the strength to endure. The spirit wolf had known that his life would not be easy.

Lame Wolf had never before lived in a village setting where Shoshone of all ages gathered around an evening campfire and told stories of the old days. Their easy laughter and teasing made him feel welcome, and he found himself smiling more often. Now and then there were dances—the Ghost Dance or the Bear Dance, performed by a select few men. Lame Wolf took part in the _natayati,_ a round dance that included the entire village. He put his long black hair in braids. Wearing beaded moccasins and vest, he lifted his feet to the music of drums, rattles, and flutes while they joined in songs led by a round dance poet. Across the circle, young men and maidens shyly eyed one another as the moon shone down upon them.

Autumn brought bitter winds that meant snow would soon be falling. The camp emptied. Lame Wolf found work at a stable where Warrior could be sheltered, and rented a room in a nearby boarding house. A member of the Shoshone Council owned the horse stable. Daniel Morning Bear had a wife and three growing daughters, and took a fatherly interest in his new employee. All year long, Daniel had admired Lame Wolf's stallion. He had paid to breed the Appaloosa to his sorrel mare, and as winter progressed, her belly began to swell from Warrior's good seed. Lame Wolf was proud that Warrior was a purebred registered Appaloosa with a fine bloodline through Jim Kirk's Warcloud. Daniel's oldest daughter, Sarah "Little Dove" thought Warrior's splotchy gray coat was as beautiful as a stormy sky. Together with her mother, she gave Lame Wolf gifts of beadwork and Indian baskets. Little Dove decorated a rawhide _parfleche_ —a kind of saddlebag—especially for Warrior. Sometimes when the snow was not deep, Lame Wolf let her ride with him atop Warrior on the frozen trails.

March arrived, bringing warmer temperatures that turned the meadows green. Lame Wolf was in the stable with Daniel when Warrior's foal came into the world. The spindly-legged filly bore the distinctive spots of an Appaloosa. Her birth stirred bittersweet memories of the Kirk horse ranch, where Lame Wolf had worked side-by-side with Uncle and young James. The hour was late and Daniel was such good company that Lame Wolf found himself opening to his employer as never before. In the quiet of the night, he talked about his painful boyhood, Jim Kirk's bout of drinking, and Jamie's behavior at the university.

With a heavy heart, he said, "They were fine men and I loved them, but it is not same anymore. Now I'm ashamed of them both."

Daniel was in no hurry to speak. For several minutes he worked in deep silence before saying, "Lame Wolf, you are skilled in the ways of the horse, but not in the ways of men. You expect everyone to be perfect." His lean finger pointed upward. "Creator God is alone without faults. Listen to me. You are bright. Your plans for the Dreamcatcher Ranch are very good. Many troubled boys would benefit from such a place, but because your friend James made a mistake, you came here instead of the university." Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a folded brochure and handed it to Lame Wolf. "I've been waiting for the right moment to give you this. At this ranch of yours, you'll need to know many things. Now is the time for learning."

Lame Wolf opened the brochure and read about the Shoshone Tribal College.

There was plenty of time for him to think. After summering in his tipi, he boarded at the college residence and began a practical course of study. He had experience managing the Kirk ranch, but Dreamcatcher would be a more complex operation, so he decided to major in business. On weekends, he worked at Daniel's stable and often shared meals with the family. On the day he turned twenty, Daniel surprised him with a celebration. Friends gathered in the Tribal Lodge and held a round dance. Across from Lame Wolf, Little Dove moved gracefully in her traditional dress, wearing a breastplate she had decorated with shells. Her warm brown eyes followed him with affection. As they danced and sang, he was acutely aware of the seventeen-year-old's beauty. Once, while out riding, they had kissed, but he did not intend to kiss her a second time. Though the softness of her lips lingered in his memory, something inside Lame Wolf held him back. _Why?_ Little Dove would make a good wife. How could he not want her for his very own? That night, before lying down to sleep, he prayed for guidance.

oooo

The first successful school year came to an end. Lame Wolf was preparing to leave for his tipi when James phoned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Anika and I are getting married next weekend, and I want you to come. I want you to be my best man."

Lame Wolf stared at Jamie's image on his padd. He knew that James had been developing a better relationship with the mother of his child, but marriage?

A wave of happiness lifted his spirits. "Good…good! Yes, I'll be there. Tomorrow."

In the morning he transported into the booth at Plum Creek, where James and his fiancé awaited him with their small son, Cody. Anika had grown in beauty since Lame Wolf last saw her. The couple glowed with a powerful love that was heartening to behold.

After lunch Lame Wolf gathered his belongings, borrowed a horse, and rode the trail to Jim Kirk's ranch. He was glad for the time alone. Here in the familiar mountains and meadows, he could talk to Grandmother Earth and prepare himself for the coming reunion. Since the age of thirteen, the Kirks had been his family—his guardian Jim whom he called Uncle, Jim's wife Antonia, and their two children. All during his absence, they had kept in touch, but young Tru missed him the most, often begging him to come home. But from now on, he would pay only brief visits. His ultimate home lay farther west, on an unknown stretch of land waiting to receive the dreams he and James were weaving together.

Up ahead, he heard hoof beats. A white horse thundered into view, and he drew back on his reins. It was Jamie's Phantom, renamed Promise by his new owner. Tru grinned broadly as Promise bounded to a stop beside him.

For a moment Lame Wolf gawked at her. It was plain to see that she was still a tomboy, but on the verge of thirteen, she no longer looked like the child he had left behind. The little screen of his padd had hidden her growth from him, and he was not prepared for the womanly changes in his little True Friend.

She laughed and said, "I bet you wonder how I found you. Well, Jamie called and said you were on your way."

"You've grown up," he observed.

Her hazel eyes danced as if it was a fine joke she had played on him. "So have you."

It was a fact. He, too, had changed from the eighteen-year-old who went to find himself among his Shoshone people. These days his smile came easier.

"Teeth," she said, teasing him like a sister. "I didn't know you had any."

Like in the old days, she brought cookies out of her saddlebag and they enjoyed them as they rode side by side through a stretch of timber.

Finally Lame Wolf said, "Your father. Has he…been well?"

"Hasn't touched a drop," she replied, much to his relief.

Uncle was much easier to deal with when he was not drinking. Even sober, he sometimes acted as if he was still in command of a starship. Though he had always said that Lame Wolf was free to choose his own path, he had expressed annoyance when Lame Wolf left for an Indian reservation instead of a university. As for the Tribal College, Uncle considered it nothing more than "a little step in the right direction". He clearly hoped that Lame Wolf, Tru, and even young Sam would all follow in his footsteps. He must have said it a thousand times; every one of them was "Starfleet material". Tru was starting to despise the very mention of Starfleet. These past years she had worked hard to develop her artistic talent, specializing in watercolors of flowers and wildlife that hung in her mother's gallery and sold well. She was already gaining a reputation as an artist, but her father saw it as nothing more than a sideline, a hobby, and continued to spout the benefits of a Starfleet career. When Tru dared to voice her opinion, he assured her that she was still too young to know her own mind. This caused arguments between Jim and his wife, who felt as if he was demeaning the artist's profession.

Tru's face saddened as they spoke of those painful matters. "Nothing's the same," she lamented, "not since you left…"

"Things change," Lame Wolf told her. "You and I…we must forge our own trails, live our own lives. Your father loves you, but he must not expect to relive his dreams by having you enter Starfleet Academy. Maybe Sam will want to chase the stars."

"Maybe." Her eyes grew large. "After you and Jamie build Dreamcatcher, can I come visit? Maybe spend the summer? I can help out."

The thought of Tru at Dreamcatcher made him smile again. "Yes, you must come. Bring Promise, too…and your watercolors."

Thinking of the future, their hearts grew light and they laughed together.

oooo

The day of the wedding dawned clear and warm. Feeling stiff in his rented formalwear, Lame Wolf gave the nervous groom his support as they traveled to Our Lady of Victory Church in nearby Pinehaven. The Kirks and other guests had already arrived. Flowers decorated the sanctuary where Father Phineas O'Day offered the wedding Mass. Anika made a beautiful bride, but it was Tru who caught Lame Wolf's interest. As a bridesmaid, she had shed her jeans and wore a pale blue gown that shimmered like the petals of a flower. With her fair reddish locks swept up into a crown of white roses, she looked fifteen instead of twelve. Their eyes met, and feeling awkward in their strange clothes, they both blushed. At Communion time he watched her take the sacred bread into her mouth, then bow her head reverently. Lifting his hands, he joined in prayer to the One Above.

After the ceremony, everyone gathered in the church hall for a reception where the guests ate their fill from a buffet and enjoyed the layered wedding cake. Alcohol was limited to a single glass of champagne. All week, Uncle had tried to teach Lame Wolf the mysteries of dancing with a partner, but his feet longed for the comfort of moccasins and the familiar rhythm of the round dance. Though he paired with Anika and Antonia and Spock's halfling wife T'Naisa, it seemed strange touching a woman in that way. Only Tru made him relax. When he held her, the movements felt pleasant and natural. He would have liked to look across a round dance and see her eyes shining at him. That day, Little Dove was far from his thoughts.

Back at the Kirk ranch he spent another pleasant week, and then it came time to depart. At the wedding reception he had given a large dreamcatcher to the newlyweds, but saved another, much smaller one for Tru. Now as they faced one another, he put the woven circle of rawhide into her hands.

"I know that your dreams are too large for this," he told her. "They are as big as the sky itself…and as beautiful as you."

Tru flashed the same sweet, open smile that had always made a homeless Indian boy feel welcome. Then she darted upstairs and returned with a rolled-up watercolor of the Kirk ranch nestled among the soaring pines.

"So you won't ever feel lonely," she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

This time she did not accompany him on the trail back to Plum Creek, where he would return the horse and transport away. She had other commitments, so he rode alone, listening to the wind and birdsong and splashing mountain brooks. All the sounds of Mother Earth tugged at his heart.

 _So you won't ever feel lonely,_ Tru had said, yet he could feel her precious artwork filling him with a strange new homesickness. More than ever, he would miss his little True Friend, but he must focus his mind on Wind River. The remaining year of study would pass quickly. By then, James would be ready to join him in the search for land.

Lame Wolf pulled up on the reins. Turning in the saddle, he looked back the way he had come—westward. Yes, somewhere out there, his future was waiting. Feeling better, he moved on.

oooOOooo


End file.
